


happy together

by ghoultown



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Impressions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Ryan's a wreck, Visiting with Mom, dress to impress, dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 04:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/pseuds/ghoultown
Summary: This is the first time I’m living on my own and my parents decided to spontaneously drop by in a few hours to see how I’m doing pls let me borrow some cleaning supplies and food so that my parents will believe I’m a functioning, responsible adult who totally cleans and doesn’t just have condiments and eggs in my fridge AUor, the one where ryan opens pandora's box and shane is a great sport





	happy together

**Author's Note:**

> sorry it's been a hot second since I've posted something!! i've had super writer's block, even though i have 100,001 ideas for several-chapter stories and one shots. please forgive me, here's a really cliche thing ily.

"Shane." Ryan began to chant, slamming his palms on the door in front of him, "Shane. Shane. Shane! SHANE!"

"Hello." Suddenly Ryan's knocks were muted. The door was absent, and he realized he was probably bruising Shane's chest. He let his hands fall. "What can I do for you today, Ryan?"

Ryan rolled his eyes at the robot voice, "Not funny. This is a serious emergency."

"Did..." Shane looked over him, trying to keep a straight face, "Did you set your toaster on fire again?"

"NO! No. I didn't. Also, don't bring that up. How many times do I need to ask you not to bring that up?" Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose while Shane just grinned at him. "No, I've got a parent emergency and I need assistance."

"Parent emergency?" Shane stepped inside and gestured for Ryan to follow, which he did. "Like, what kind?"

"What… kind?" Ryan tilted his head.

"Yeah, you've had parent emergencies before," Shane said, closing the door with his elbow, his face twisted in concern, "Phone call emergencies, _I want to get a cat but my mom's allergic_ emergencies, _I can't survive on my own_ emergencies...”

"Mom’s coming over in a few hours to see how I'm doing and I need help creating a facade to prove that I'm functioning and responsible and I can't do that by myself because I'm not." He sighed and collapsed onto the door, his hair fluttering up before flopping back onto his forehead.

Shane blinked. "You think _I'm_... functioning and responsible?"

Ryan dug his fingers into his eyes, silently regretting his mistake, "Shane, is that really... _all_ you can say, right now?"

"I'm flattered," Shane admitted with a shrug. "But what kinda help do you need, buddy? I can't rework your entire life in a few hours."

"You can try?" Ryan fluttered his damn eyelashes and Shane paused.

"I can try," Shane nodded charmingly before pointing accusingly. "You need to straighten up, first of all."

"Excuse me?"

Shane seemed to gather cleaning supplies out of nowhere, arms full and shirt tucked in. He looked like a proper cartoon from the ‘50s. "Last time I was at your place, you fell over a stack of laundry and then crawled to the couch instead of walking.”

"Yeah, but that was a week ago," Ryan muttered.

"Yeah, but you definitely haven't cleaned since," Shane ushered him out of the way to slip out the door.

-

Ryan sat on the couch, tossing kernels of popcorn into his mouth as Shane vacuumed the rug, his hair pushed back and his face twisted into a concentrated frown. He watched the second season of Making a Murderer with the subtitles on, ducking and moving to keep his eyes on the television as Shane strode back in forth in front of him.

"Get off the couch," Shane said, switching the vacuum off. It whirred to a halt. "I need to see what horrors lie beneath it."

"My mom won't look under there," he waved a hand dismissively and let it fall to the cushion beside him. "Sit down, man. Take a load off."

"Ryan, that's shameful." Shane brushed his palms on the front of his jeans, sitting down anyway. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "You've got so much square footage. I'm exhausted."

"Well, you can take a little nap, if you want," Ryan offered, setting the bag of popcorn on the table. "She isn’t coming for another four hours."

"Eh, I couldn't intrude," Shane said, clearly sinking into the couch and closing his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and let his head lull back with a sigh. "I'll be out of your hair in no time."

"Whatever," Ryan said, turning up the volume and kicking the vacuum to the ground to cease its obstruction of the television. It clattered, bumping against the table, and Shane opened an eye to give a tired half-glare before falling asleep.

-

Ryan seemed to forget that his maid friend came over entirely. He busied himself with lies about full-time jobs and steady relationships and healthy diets. It all seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces, he didn't even need to take notes into his phone, and he found himself slipping his fancy white dress shirt he always wore to seem put together.

To his credit, Shane’s t-shirt blended seamlessly with the couch, his face obstructed by a matching pillow, and Ryan hadn’t the state of mind to ask why the couch had legs. Two hours passed, and Ryan leapt up from the loveseat (completely bypassing his friend, who was oddly silent in sleep) as he heard a knock on the door, his fancy shoes pinching his heels as he jogged to the door.

The greeting started swimmingly as his mother’s smiling face came into view.

“Look at you,” she said, grinning, her arms splayed to the sides as she waited for a hug. Ryan leaned forward and down, hugging her carefully, confused. He then remembered how he’d cleaned and dressed himself up, and committed to the role. “You look amazing, Ryan.”

“Thanks. Y’know, just my usual wardrobe,” he said, suspiciously. She didn’t seem to notice, adjusting her purse on her shoulder as she stepped past him, waving a hand over the space.

“Very tidy,” she said with a nod, “Very good.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said, feeling as though he was getting an inspection. He was.

“Dishes done,” his mother peeked her head into the kitchen with a content expression.

“Well, yeah,” Ryan said, rubbing the back of his neck. _I should have let Shane vacuum under the couch,_ he thought, _clearly this is going to be a very in-depth investigation._

Ryan’s mother placed her bag on the island, turning to look at Ryan, who was cowering on the other side. “I’m pleased. I was worried about you, but… you look like you’ve figured everything out.”

“Uh. ‘Course I have!” Ryan propped himself up on his elbow, trying to strike a Confident Pose, but his elbow nearly slipped and he muffled a yelp. “I’ve got this adult thing down pat. No worries.”

Ryan's mother leaned across the counter, nearly mirroring his movements. Her eyes went just to the right of Ryan and she paused, "And… who is the man on your couch?"

Ryan froze, pivoting on his heel at a snail’s pace, looking to Shane's unconscious sprawled form. He winced. "I forgot... he was here."

She just looked at him, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, he's..."

Was he supposed to admit that he wasn't functional or responsible? Was he supposed to admit that Shane had done the cleaning while Ryan watched? That the dress shirt and pinchy shoes were just a costume?

"Dating!" Ryan decided on. "We are. Uh, dating. I am dating him. Boyfriends."

His mother smiled, "I thought so. He seems nice."

"He's... asleep?" Ryan said, confused. One, that his mother immediately assumed the sleeping Shane was his boyfriend, and two, that he’d missed a 7-foot-tall sasquatch sleeping on his couch while getting ready.

"I'm a mother," she patted his cheek and he grimaced. "I just know."

 _Not this time,_ he thought sourly.

“Should I…” Ryan regretted even opening his mouth, “Should I… wake him up? To, uh, meet you?”

“No, no,” she dismissed the idea, and Ryan sighed in relief. “I couldn’t disrupt. Let him rest, maybe we can be formerly introduced tomorrow.”

“Right,” Ryan sighed with a weak nod. “Tomorrow.”

- 

Shane woke up approximately thirty minutes after Ryan’s mother said farewell, hugging him and telling him how proud she was, before grabbing an Uber to her hotel room. Ryan had offered that she stay, but luckily, she had declined, already having paid for the night. If Ryan had to keep his character up for an entire 24 hours, he’d die of burn out.

The tall man stretched his arms over his head, groaning, his back in absolute shambles from Ryan’s cheap couch, blinking one sloth eye open at a time. He was greeted with a standing Ryan, still wearing his dress shirt, biting at his nails.

“Good morning,” Shane said.

"I told her we're dating," Ryan said.

Shane blinked. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, the glaze of exhaustion melting away from his eyes. His hands laid tiredly in his lap, his back straight. "You did?"

"Yeah."

"…” Shane opened his mouth and closed it a few times before settling on: “Why?"

"Because if she knows you're my friend and you cleaned my life up and you fix all my mistakes, she’ll know I'm a failure."

"You're not a _failure_ , Ryan."

"Kinda." Ryan rubbed his eyes. "But I can tell her we're not when she leaves, or something."

"If you want," Shane shrugged, scrunching his shoulders up to his ears before exhaling them back down. He cracked his knuckles, "I'm gonna go get some coffee. Do you want some?"

"It’s too late for coffee.”

“It’s never too late for coffee,” Shane said with a smirk and a wink, and Ryan wanted to evaporate.

-

"Where is Shane?" His mother asked as soon as the door closed. It was the second day. The preparation was less high-strung this time around; Ryan hadn’t ironed his socks or anything. The first day seemed good enough to create a lasting impression.

Ryan ran his palms down the front of his slightly-wrinkled shirt, glad that the whimsical pattern somewhat masked it, "In his apartment."

"Oh," she said with a frown, tapping her acrylic nails against the tabletop. "Are you two okay?"

"Oh! Right." Ryan remembered, nearly stumbling over himself to turn around. "We're good. He just needed to do…  some stuff. Work stuff. Nothing to, uh, worry about."

"Okay." She nodded, "Well, could I talk to him before we leave? I'd really love to meet him properly."

"Of course," Ryan said on autopilot. "Yeah. ‘Course.”

Ryan managed to distract her for a few hours around the city, pointing out fancy coffee shops and stores, saying that he makes a routine of stopping by them, though each lie made a lump form in his throat. He wasn’t the Mama’s Boy he used to be but lying to his mother at any capacity made him feel terrible. As it should.

Shane texted him about movie night, and his mother spotted the message before he could swipe out of it, rendering his distraction efforts obsolete in less than a second.

“Movie night?” She smiled at Ryan, whose face was an unsightly shade of red.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, trying to pull himself together. “Just a little… routine… thing that we do.”

“That’s lovely,” she said, looking into the windows of a particularly expensive clothing store as they passed. Ryan turned his phone screen away from his mother to quickly text, _MY MOM WANTS TO MEET U LATER._

Shane quickly responded: _ok._

Ryan wanted to scream, but Shane texted again.

_so, is that a yes or no on the movie night?_

-

When Shane arrived, a varied selection of DVDs to choose from (they’d already filtered through the entire Netflix catalog, and there were still several weeks before any new movies were added) under his arm, Ryan grabbed the cases and replaced them with a whisk.

“You need to teach me how to cook.”

Shane looked at the cold metal tool in his hands, “Hello.”

“Mom tried opening the fridge, but I’ve only got eggs and sauces in there, and she wants to come to dinner tomorrow, and I – “

“I’ll gladly teach you how to make something,” Shane said, slipping his jacket off his shoulders, tucking the whisk into his pocket, “But, I’ll do you one better. Would it not be appropriate for me just to come and make something?”

“Uh? Maybe…?” Ryan thought for a moment, “I figured she’d want me to do something, but – “

“But, as your boy – “

“Right.” Ryan nodded, plucking the whisk from Shane’s pocket. “Nevermind.” He looked to the DVD cases in his hands.

“Yeah,” Shane said. He folded his jacket and placed it on the kitchen island. He wiped his palms on the front of his pants, clicking his tongue at Ryan’s shaky hands. “You’re really scared of your mom, huh?”

“No, I’m not scared of her, Shane,” Ryan said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Fine, then,” Shane agreed, “You’re scared that she thinks you’re not self-sufficient.”

“Well, duh,” Ryan shrugged, “That’s what she wants, I think. An _adult_ son, of whom is self-sufficient.”

“Moms have high expectations,” Shane said casually, stepping around Ryan and taking long strides toward the couch. “That’s what they do.”

-

“You look nice,” Ryan said dumbly.

Shane looked over his shoulder, the purple dress shirt taut over his back, “Well, you told me to dress up.”

“I did,” Ryan agreed, taking a long swig of beer, his palm heating up the aluminum. “What are you making again?”

“It’s, uh. Risotto with some green veggies,” Shane said, waving a wooden spoon in the air that Ryan didn’t know he even had. “I looked up ‘what to cook to impress a mother in law’ and this came up.”

Ryan choked. Shane grinned, his ears drawing up the sides of his head ever so slightly.

It felt like forever, but eventually Shane was placing the lid over the pot and leaning on the oven. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and snapped his fingers, “Once she gets here, you just have to put it on plates. Can you handle that?”

“Yeah,” Ryan rolled his eyes, “ _Douche_.”

“Is that anyway to speak to your – “

Three delicate knocks on the front door. Shane closed his mouth, raising his eyebrows, and Ryan swallowed.

“Don’t be rude,” Ryan said, almost an afterthought, taking a timid step toward the door.

“I’d never,” Shane said, pushing himself up. “Should I greet the lady?”

“No,” Ryan said, his hands outstretched. “I have to. It’s my place.”

“ _Our_ place,” Shane said quietly, dodging whatever blurred object Ryan chucked at his head.

-

(“He’s lovely,” Ryan’s mother would later say as they stood in the hall, her purse over her shoulder. Shane _had_ been; he was pulling out all the stops. He’d even pulled out the chairs for Ryan and his mother. Who _was_ he?

“Yeah,” Ryan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He’s _tall_ ,” she said.

“Yeah.”)

-

"Shane, Shane, Shane, Shane, SHANE, SHANE, SHANE!" Ryan was beating his palms on the door again, as Shane hadn’t answered his phone and this was the one way he could absolutely get an answer.

"What is it, friend?" Shane peeked out from the door.

"Do you wanna come over?" He rocked back and forth on his heels until Shane opened the rest of the way, sure that his chest wouldn't be punched.

"Yeah," Shane said carefully. "What's the occasion?"

"Just wanna hang out. Why?"

Shane stepped outside and began to lock his door but sighed and pressed his forehead against the door, "Oh, Ryan."

"What?"

"You're wearing cologne."

"So?"

"Mom?"

"Yeah."

"Well, let me dress up a bit, then." Shane flipped through his key ring, shaking his head.

Ryan beamed, patting his friend’s shoulder, "Thanks!”

-

“Hello,” Shane said, stooping down to scoop Ryan into his arms (they’d practiced), turning to Mrs. Bergara with outstretched arms. He kissed the top of her hand and gave a bow. Ryan pretended to gag, but his mother seemed to be over the moon. “I hope you already ordered. I’m sorry I’m late. Work is… ugh.”

He slid into the booth across from Ryan and his mother, folding his hands. Ryan’s mother waved her hand, “Of course not.”

“I got you a coffee,” Ryan muttered.

Shane smiled warmly, “Thank you, dear.”

Ryan ignored him. His mother kicked him in the leg. He sighed.

“Thank you,” Ryan hissed through his teeth, “Shane _. So much_.”

Shane beamed. It seemed decent.

-

Shane looked at Ryan with his hands on his hips, “What?”

“You need to keep him at your place,” Ryan said, his arms full of a crate, too dark inside for Shane to see the creature that he knew was in there somewhere. “Because mom is making more usual visits, and she’ll die if she so much as touches one cat hair.”

“Okay, but,” Shane held up a finger, raising an eyebrow, “One way you could have _not_ risked your mother’s untimely feline demise… is to not have gotten a cat at all.”

“Yeah, but you’ve also wanted a cat for awhile.”

“Uh?” Shane said, “So? Eventually, I guess, but you can’t just – “

Ryan held the crate out. Shane took it, naturally, and Ryan was out the door. Shane sighed, looking up to the ceiling with a silent plea, and turned to place the crate somewhere in the living room. Fake commitment was exhausting.

-

“Obi?” Ryan said, disgusted.

“He lives under this roof, he’s named by the roof-owner,” Shane said, brushing his fingers through the orange cat’s fur. “Lil Obi Wan.”

“I hate it.” Ryan sighed, reaching out for the cat. “But I love him.”

“Me too,” Shane admitted. “He hasn’t scratched me yet.”

“That’s a feat,” Ryan said, hand protectively grasping his bandaged forearm. “He’s really imprinted on you, huh?”

“Yeah.”

There was a brief moment of time where Ryan wondered if buying an entire cat just to pretend as though he had his life together was a bit much, that they couldn’t just bring Obi back and forth from the adoption center dependent on his mother’s schedule (especially now that Shane had named him). Even once his mother left, he’d still be dealing with the repercussions of his Play Pretend where he got to dress up like someone who had his shit together.

He’d gotten Shane in on it, too.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Shane asked, sitting back on his ankles, his eyes soft.

“Nothing.”

-

“You need to spend the night,” Ryan said with little prelude, bursting through the front door of Shane’s humble abode, his finger pointing accusingly in the direction of Shane’s lazy form on the couch.

“I really need to start locking my door,” Shane sighed.

“Mom is staying over, and you need to stay too.”

“…” Shane shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, “Alright. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“You’re the best,” Ryan said, clapping his hands together with an eye-crinkling smile.

“I’d better be,” Shane mumbled.

-

Shane was pulling blankets out from Ryan’s closet when Ryan approached, a pillow from the guest room under his arm.

“So,” Shane said quietly, “What’s the plan?”

“You’re on the couch again,” Ryan said, handing the pillow over, “I’m in the guest room, Mom gets my bed.”

“Nice,” Shane said with a grimace. “You’ve got to explain away my crankiness in the morning, though.”

“As long as you make breakfast, I can do that.” Ryan gave him an odd pat on the arm, “Thanks.”

Shane threw a quilted blanket over his shoulder, “No problemo, Ry.”

Ryan blinked, confused at the nickname, “Oh. Okay.”

Shane stepped around him with a smirk, leaving the room. Ryan just stared at the wall in front of him for a few moments, trying to gather his unceremoniously spilled bearings, when he heard a chuckle behind him.  

“He’s sleeping on the couch?” He heard the raised eyebrow in her voice. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” Ryan turned. “He can’t fit on the guest bed anyways. He’s too long.”

“He can fit in _your_ bed,” she shook her head, “So why aren’t you sleeping there?”

“Uh?” Ryan shook his head, “My bed is the comfiest, so you should have it.”

“You two should stay in there,” his mother decided indefinitely, causing a chill to run down Ryan’s spine. “It’s your home, Ryan.”

“I…” Ryan’s shoulders sagged. “Okay. I’ll turn down the guest bed for you – “

“I’m an adult, I can do it,” she waved a hand. “You go and get him off that wretched thing.”

“It’s not… _wretched_ ,” Ryan said, his mouth incredibly dry.

He stumbled down the hallway, trying to plan out any words to say besides GET IN BED WITH ME, which was incredibly aggressive, but it was all he could think. He saw Shane’s concentrated face as he laid out the blankets, no doubt trying to figure out in his head how in the world he was going to ask –

“Hey,” Shane said.

“Get in bed with me,” Ryan said, waving his arm in the direction of the bedroom.

“Okay,” Shane said simply.

“Okay,” Ryan’s face blanked. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll… see ya there,” Shane gathered his blankets in his arms.

“Yep.”

-

(“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Shane said, standing by the side of the bed while Ryan hyperventilated under the blankets. “I can just… sneak out.”

“No, it’s fine.” Ryan brought a shaky hand up and let it rest in the empty space beside him. “S’fine.”

“Alright.”

“You should put pants on, though.”

“I’m not gonna sleep in my jeans,” Shane said, crawling under the covers. “You already told me it’s fine.”

“You’re the worst.” Ryan felt Shane’s cold thigh against his blisteringly hot one.

“You married me.”

“Shane.”

“Goodnight, Ryan.”)

-

There was a gentle knock on the front door and Ryan sighed, looking at his watch and then down to himself. He hadn’t had any time to dress up this time. Maybe it was time to fess up anyway.

Ryan padded over to the door, trying to plan out what words he could say as he clicked the locks open. Maybe the relationship was too good to last and Ryan had slipped into a deep depression. _Mom might make me soup,_ he thought.

Shane stepped into the room, causing Ryan to stumble back, as he’d expected the small form of his mother rather than the tall, intimidating frame of his friend.

“Hey,” Shane said, turning around and pinning Ryan to the door, “I really need to know what happens after this visit.”

“Uh?” Ryan said, brilliantly.

“Like, after your mom leaves this time,” Shane said.

“… Uh?”

“Are we just gonna keep playing dress up, Ryan?”

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Ryan said quietly. “You can just wear a t-shirt next time – “

“Ryan.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan said, rocking back and forth on his heels, the cold of the door seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. “I know. You don’t have to.”

“I want to, I just feel pretty bad about it,” Shane said, “Lying to your mom. She’s a nice woman.”

“I know she’s a _nice woman_ ,” Ryan was defensive.

“So, either we stop lying, or we stop _lying_.” Shane seemed as though he’d just made something abundantly clear but Ryan was incredibly confused.

“What?”

“Either you fess up and tell her that you’re lying, or… we just stop.”

Ryan blinked. “Stop lying?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

Shane stared at him, the determination growing soft on his features.

“… Okay,” Ryan said, quietly.

“Okay,” Shane said as well, nodding once and brushing Ryan to the side. He disappeared out the door and Ryan finally exhaled the breath he was holding in his throat.

-

            (“I called Mom,” Ryan said several days later, the tension faded but continuously stinging. “I told her we broke up.”

            “So you just… lied your way out of a lie,” Shane said with a nod. “Fair.”

            “I think so,” Ryan said, his chin pointed upwards.

            “Alrighty,” Shane said, looking down to his phone.

            Ryan stared at him. “Anything else to say?”

            “Uh…” Shane looked at his palms before making eye contact, “It’s not me, it’s you?”

            “You’re a dick.”

            “You’re a dick who lies to his _mother_ ,” Shane said with a smirk. Ryan clamped his mouth closed. Shane laughed.)

 

-

“Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan.” Shane knocked on the door, chanting, bouncing Obi in his arms as he did.

“What, what,” Ryan cracked the door, looking between Shane and his cat. “What.”

“I have to go to a thing this weekend, and I need you to be a good mom and watch our son while I’m gone.”

“He’s not my son.”

“Yes, he is,” Shane held the cat out and Ryan had no choice but to take him. “Just Friday and Saturday.”

“Alright,” Ryan sighed, setting Obi down.  He scampered off to settle on the couch, like usual. Ryan gestured to the crate by Shane’s feet, “Did you bring everything I need?”

“Of course,” Shane clasped his hands together, taking a step back and bowing his head, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Ryan said, perhaps a bit oddly. Shane gave him a confused smirk, his eyebrows dropping lower on his forehead.

“Alright…” He smiled again, more genuinely. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

“You don’t… have to,” Ryan said.

“Yeah I do,” Shane said. He winked, and then he was gone.

-

(“Yeah, he just… dropped off the cat and left,” Ryan said, phone to his ear and cat toy in his other hand, beckoning the sassy orange mound that squinted at him from the couch, “Sure, I bought him, but he’s completely Shane’s.”

_“What are you complaining about, again?”_

“That I’m babysitting a cat on a weekend.”

_“Okay. And you didn’t think to complain to Shane about it?”_

“You’re right. I should.” Ryan hung up, and dialed Shane’s number. From memory, which was something he would analyze another day. “Hey, I think it’s really shitty that you dropped your cat off here with no warning.”

 _“I understand, and I appreciate your honesty,”_ Shane’s voice was devoid of smug on the other line.

“… Okay…” Ryan didn’t expect that at all.

 _“We’re even,”_ Shane continued. _“Movie night, when I get back? With Obi or without.”_

“Sure,” Ryan said automatically. He looked at Obi, whose head was cocked to the side in confusion and interest. “Hey, do you wanna… speak to… Obi?”

_“He is a cat, Ryan, he cannot speak.”_

”Yeah, but he really hates me, and I think he can hear your voice and it’s makin’ him all… soft.” Ryan grimaced at the words but put the phone on speaker anyway. “Hear that, you little monster? That’s your dad. Cheer up.”

_“Hey, buddy!”_

Obi warmed up immediately. Ryan sighed. Shane laughed.)

-

“Howdy!” Shane said as the door opened, an orange cat springing up at his leg and a very scratched up Ryan letting his shoulders fall in relief. Shane lifted Obi into his arms, cradling him close to his chest with a wide grin, before he glanced up at his friend and cat-nanny. He looked with a fading smile at his friend’s arms, “Did you provoke him?”

“No, you’re raising a devil cat,” Ryan slammed the door, nearly catching the tail of Shane’s jacket. “You need to get him trained.”

“You need to show a little compassion.” Shane rubbed his cheek against Obi’s head, who purred in response and nuzzled against his chin. “He’s a sweetheart.”

“I hate this.” Ryan said, rubbing his fingertips against his eyes.

“Well,” Shane said, slowly setting Obi down to scamper off into some corner. “We need to clean you up, because clearly you didn’t listen to my important lecture on cleaning your scratches.”

“Shane, I’m a grown man, I cleaned ‘em all by myself,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes as Shane took his wrist and guided him to the bathroom.

“Not well,” Shane said, shaking his head. “Should have known better than to leave you alone.”

“Shane – “

“Up, up,” Shane said, to impatient to wait for Ryan to sit up on the counter by himself, taking Ryan’s hips in his hands and lifting him up.

“I’m an adult – “

“Duck your head,” Shane said, swinging open the medicine cabinet to grab bandages and rubbing alcohol. Ryan’s forehead rested on Shane’s chest against his will, Shane’s hand against the back of his neck to keep him down until he clicked the door shut. “Good job.”

“Shane, this is really dumb.”

“If you could just take better care of yourself, this wouldn’t happen,” Shane said quietly, almost scolding.

“You’re such a mom.”

“Can you handle the pressure?” Shane took Ryan’s arm carefully, applying the alcohol and shushing Ryan’s small whines. “Two mothers. Your resolve would snap.”

“I guess,” Ryan said quietly, resting his head back against the mirror. “Where’d you go?”

“Family thing,” Shane said, waving his hand dismissively. “All your mom’s visits got me homesick.”

“Oh,” Ryan frowned. “What all did you do?”

“Eh,” Shane said with a smile, peeling the plastic from the band-aids and placing them on each expanse of broken skin. “Normal family things.”

“You’re weird,” Ryan said. He stilled when Shane pressed his lips, slow and odd, to Ryan’s arm. “Uh. What the fuck?”

“Gotta kiss it better,” Shane said, stepping out of the bathroom. “What movie are we gonna watch?”

“Hold on, you can’t just – “

“Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“Shane – “

“I’m thinkin’ Nightmare Before Christmas.”

-

Ryan opened the door, opening his arms in a solemn Hey, Mom gesture, but his mother gathered him up in her arms and patted his hair, pulling him down to be close.

“Oh, honey,” she said.

“What?” Ryan blinked, stretching to close the door with his foot.

“I’m so sorry to hear about you and Shane.”

“It’s been a few days since we – okay, mom,” Ryan slowly extricated himself from his mother’s embrace, “Thanks. It’s been super rough.”

“How did it happen? What was the - ?” She couldn’t even speak, her face adorned with worry. “You both seemed so in love.”

“We hadn’t even been together that long, so. No love there,” Ryan said, guiding her to the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Are you okay, Ryan?” She said instead, gesturing to him. “You look different. Tired.”

“No, this is just…” Ryan rubbed his hand over his face, “Okay, mom. I need to tell you something, but – “

There was a knock at the door. Ryan closed his mouth and looked helplessly at the door. He wanted to welcome this distraction with open arms, but he absolutely had to tell his mother about his deceit sometime. This was as good a time as any. But the knock was persistent, three sharp raps every second Ryan didn’t answer, and his mom was looking at him expectantly and he felt his feet moving before he could even continue talking.

“Hold on, mom,” he said with a sigh, grasping the cold doorknob with his hot palm.

And then he was looking at Shane.

“Hey,” Shane said, looking slightly lost and very out of breath.

“This isn’t a great time,” Ryan said quietly, feeling as if his breath was knocked out of his lungs at the sight of his friend.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick,” Shane said, placing his foot against the doorframe as if he expected Ryan to close the door on him, “I just wanted to tell you that you mean a lot to me and I think we should try being together again.”

“What?” Ryan’s hand fell from the doorknob. “Shane, this really isn’t – “

“I know that things are a little weird, but… y’know.” Shane ran a hand through his hair, his shirt and pajama pants fresh with wrinkles. He looked as though he’d just gotten up. Ryan glanced at the clock. It was three in the afternoon. “We tried it once, and it was a little off and – I know, it was all kind of a show, or whatever – but I think we are good at being together and I also think that we have a cat together and we’re legally bound by that.”

“We’re not… _legally_ bound.”

“Just. Please.” Shane said. “I don’t mean to pressure you, but I’m quite literally begging and I’m pretty sure you’ve said you want me to do that so. Here I am.”

“Shane…” Ryan said.

“Do I need to get down on my knees, or something? Because I’m not above that.” Shane started to drop and Ryan grasped his shoulder to stop him.

“We need to talk about this later.”

“Can you wait until I’m on my knees to reject me, Ryan?” Shane had one knee planted on the ground, his hands braced on his thigh. “

“No, I’m not… rejecting you. I just have company.”

Shane blinked, pushing himself up, “Oh.”

“Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah,” Shane said. “Uh.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Ryan said, beginning to close the door.

“Oh, alright.” Shane said, moving his head to keep an eye on Ryan until the door was clicked closed.

Ryan sighed and pressed his forehead against the door, he swore he felt his skin sizzle against the frozen wood. He heard his mother’s heels click hesitantly behind him.

“That was…” he heard her voice, “… beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said quietly.

“What was it you had to tell me?” She asked.

“Uh. Nothing,” Ryan said, his brain fried. “Yeah. Nothin’.”

-

Ryan found himself standing in Shane’s doorway after a few hours of assuring his mom that he was fine. He held a few DVD cases in his hand, thinking originally that it would be a funny joke, but now as stress grabbed a hold of his lungs he wasn’t so sure.

Shane opened the door and raised his eyebrows, “Hello.”

“I’m down,” Ryan said, throwing hours of planning and internal discourse away.

“You’re… down.” Shane said.

“Yeah, let’s… like, date, or whatever.”

“When you’re nervous you turn into a bro,” Shane said, stepping to the side with what may have been the brightest smile Ryan had ever seen. “But okay.”

“I’m not a bro,” Ryan said, handing the DVDs over. He mocked Shane, shaking his head, _“But okay.”_

Shane just smiled at him, shaking his head. Ryan swore Shane said something about sass and self-sufficiency, but he couldn’t hear through the blood rushing through his ears.


End file.
